Busted Supplemental Chapters
by Onesimus42
Summary: The mature sequel to my 'Busted' fic. What goes on when the door is closed.
1. Chapter 1

_**Just a two-shot accompanying M-ness for 'Busted'. **__**Because you really didn't think I could have them in an inn without a bit of smut, did you? Batwings79 was inspired to provide the appropriate parallel activity for Richard and Isobel entitled "Behind Closed Doors". So be sure to check that out as well.**_

_**Disclaimer: Still don't belong to me.**_

Charles and Elsie made their way to the washrooms and back thankfully without running into Mrs. Bird and Mr. Molesley or anyone else for that matter. When they returned, Charles lay down with his back against the headboard and coaxed Elsie to lean against his chest between his legs. He began to trace lazy circles on her abdomen through her nightdress, grazing the underside of her breasts with the edge of his thumb. Nibbling his way gradually down her neck, he found the spot behind her left ear that she found so distracting. She sighed for a moment then twisted her neck away from his lips. Puzzled but determined, he lifted his hand to the neck of her nightdress and began to loosen the top buttons tracing her neck with the tips of his fingers as her skin was revealed. She leaned into his touch momentarily before pulling her head back.

"Charles," she hissed, "Not now."

"Elsie," he said, "What on earth is the matter?"

"It's just that-," she said as she turned in his arms to look at him, "I can't. Not with _them_ here."

He sat up to look at her in astonishment, "Why in the world should that make any difference? For goodness sake, they're halfway down the hall and on the other side! I doubt they'll hear anything unless my performance is quite a bit better than it's ever been."

"Charles," she admonished with a roll of her eyes then continued quietly, "I can't explain why, it just does!"

"Dear wife," he began again soothingly, "we come here each year so that we can have the freedom to enjoy each other without having to restrain ourselves. Do you really want to forgo that?"

"Dear husband," she answered back just as patronizingly, "it's not that I don't want to enjoy you, and I certainly enjoy the lack of restraint. I just can't help thinking about them just down the hall."

He glared first at the door and then her for a moment, "This is ridiculous!"

Falling back at her side, he hit his head on the headboard with a loud thump, "Ow!"

"Charles," she exclaimed, "Are you alright?"

"No!" he grimaced in pain as he rubbed the back of his head, "Am I bleeding?"

She looked at him in amusement for a moment and said, "Well, at least there's a doctor just down the hall."

He opened one eye to glare at her again and began to chuckle then laugh wholeheartedly.

She joined him after a moment and laid her head on his chest, still laughing. After a few moments, she said, "I'm sorry. It's just distracting."

"Elsie, dear," he whispered into her hair as he stroked her shoulder blade with his thumb, "we've made love in my room, in yours, in your sitting room, and in my pantry. Almost every time there's been someone we know just a room away. I still fail to understand why it matters this time."

"Because this time, they know exactly what we're up to, I suppose," she said, playing with the buttons on his pyjamas.

He grunted, "Would it be forward of me to go beg them to find another inn?"

"Don't you dare!" she said, sitting up to look at him, "It's probably difficult enough for Isobel knowing that we're here as well. Besides, you might interrupt."

He laughed again, "Serve them right. Ruining our holiday. Although, I'd prefer not to think about that, thank you very much."

"And now you see my dilemma," she nodded against his chest sadly, "I really don't want to disappoint you."

"Who said I'm disappointed?" he asked then continued at her level look, "Well, I am disappointed, but I enjoy being able to lie here with you in my arms almost as much."

"Liar," she smiled as she kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

"I said 'almost'," he defended himself before drawing her closer to his chest.

After a few moments of her stroking his chest through the opening of his pyjamas and him rubbing her back gently, she asked quietly, "Do you remember our first time here?"

"I'm not quite senile yet, dear," he answered wryly, "And even if I were, I don't think I would forget those four days, especially seeing where they ended," he added, lifting her left hand to his mouth to kiss the ring there.

Turning her hand over, she cupped his cheek in her hand and traced his lips lightly with her thumb. He kissed it, letting his tongue flick out against the tip.

"You were so reverent," she said smiling at his lips, "As though you couldn't believe I was here."

"Elsie, love, I'd never made love in a bed before. I'm not sure that you could even call any of those times against the wall behind dance halls or in corners making love. It was important to me that it be different with you because you're different. I've never been a lucky man, but I think with you I won the grand prize," he finished by smiling against her hand and kissing her wrist.

"Flatterer," she said with a roll of her eyes, "A very wrinkled grand prize."

"Flatterer; am I?" he asked with slight offense, "Lie back, love, and I'll tell you how you look."

She lay back against the pillow, and he rose on his elbow over her. Placing her hand on his arm she gazed up at him with a breathless nervousness.

Smiling down at her reassuringly, he trailed the tips of his fingers over the edge of her hair, pushing stray strands behind her ear, "First, we have hair the color of claret. It's amazing that something as ordinary as pouring wine can make me think of how your hair spills over your shoulder while you're making love to me."

He bent to kiss her temple and was delighted to hear her soft gasp. Not letting himself be distracted from his mission, he brushed his lips over the faint lines at the corners of her eyes, "Here we have lines that years of smiling have brought to your face. I can never look at these without hearing you laugh in delight. And of course they lead to those very expressive eyes. More blue than a summer day when you're happy, but they darken like a storm is on the way when you're angry or when you're filled with desire."

She started to speak, but he cut her off with a soft kiss before pulling his head back to continue his perusal, "It's my turn to speak, love, and yours to listen. You've always said my voice makes you melt. Let's see if that's true. Have I told you before how much I enjoy watching your mouth when you talk? I confess that at times I miss what you say because I'm imagining kissing your lips or seeing them wrapped around me giving me pleasure."

Her cheeks tinted faintly and he leaned down to kiss the blushes there before lifting his hand to the buttons of her nightdress. She pulled back slightly surprised, and he said soothingly, "Now, you want me to describe you. I can hardly do that if I can't see you, can I?"

He saw by her eyes and the soft smile playing at her lips that she suspected where this was going, but she relaxed and gave a short, quick nod.

His heart lifted in triumph as he loosened the buttons at the neck of her nightdress. He let just the tips of his fingers brush across her skin. His determination to seduce her with just his words had grown. "Now we have the beautiful neck that your lovely face rests above. So white, it begs to be kissed. Your new dresses are still very distracting, although I'm becoming a little more used to the sight. Did you know that when you're very angry, as I somehow seem able to make you, that these muscles grow tight and I can actually see your pulse beating rapidly just here?" He motioned to her pulse point, fingers so close to her skin she could feel their warmth brushing across her neck.

Fingers working at the buttons of her nightdress again, he glanced up toward her eyes which were half-closed, and he noticed that her lips were parted slightly to release quick, short breaths. Looking down to where he had pushed her nightdress aside, he was pleased to see her chest rising and falling quickly. A slight flush was spreading down her neck only to rise up the swell of her breasts. His own breath caught when he saw that her nipples were tight and hard where he had pulled her nightdress away. Clearing his throat, he said in a voice hoarsening with desire, "And your breasts which fit my hands perfectly. I love the way your breasts rise when you take a deep breath and the feel of them pressed against me when I'm holding you. When you fasten your corset, they push forward delightfully. I enjoy watching you dress almost as much as I enjoy watching you undress. Although seeing you lying here, the nipples are so rosy and inviting," he finished breathlessly.

Unable to restrain himself, he bent to draw first one and then the other nipple into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around and flick across the tip. He was gratified to hear her low moan and feel her hand in his hair clutching him to her breast. Mentally shaking himself, he pulled back reluctantly and urged her to sit up so that he could draw her nightdress over her head. She hesitated only a moment before allowing him to remove her nightdress and then made a movement to draw him into her arms. He pulled back, shaking his head and whispering hoarsely, "No, Elsie, I want to finish looking at you."

She gave a frustrated sigh, and then lay back on the bed with a self-satisfied smile, spreading her arms and legs apart. She must have noticed how much his perusal was affecting him as well as her. Knowing that he couldn't resist his urges much longer, he let his eyes trail down her arms to her hands. "You have such strong arms and hands," he said appreciatively, "but still I've seen them sooth a homesick maid or boy. And I've felt them grabbing my back to draw me closer and faster when you're near your release. Sometimes I imagine them on my back or stroking me when you're knitting at night, needles clicking through the yarn."

Eyes trailing lower, he let them skip over her center but noticed her moist curls almost peripherally just as he registered the smell of her growing arousal. Trailing his eyes down her legs, he said, "And your legs are so strong and shaped perfectly. They also seem to be the perfect length to wrap around my waist."

Finally, she sat up and reached for his night shirt, popping at least three buttons as she tried frantically to remove it. He pulled it over his head in one motion and felt her small, strong hands at the fastenings of his pyjama trousers. She had the tie loose and trousers pushed down onto his hips by the time he could reach down to help, "Now, Charles," she rasped against his cheek, "Please, now."

He had his trousers off in a moment and entered her with one swift, long thrust. True to his prediction, she wrapped her legs around his waist and raked her fingers down his back. His lips captured her neck before pulling back so that he could watch the storms play across her eyes. She cried out and shuddered against him in pleasure before dropping her lips to his neck to nip and suckle at the skin there. His own release building, he quickened his pace and deepened his thrusts until fireworks exploded behind his eyes, and he could barely hear his own roar of release for the rushing of blood in his ears.

Holding himself above her as long as he could stand, he kissed her gently, sucking her tongue and lip into his mouth. He dropped to her side after several long, sweet moments. His head rested just above her shoulder, and he placed kisses there as he caught his breath. Arm draped heavily over her waist, he drew her closer to his side. She grasped the hand at her waist with her own and began to stroke the tiny hairs on the back of his wrist.

"Charles, that was," she began breathlessly, "I can't-, I never knew you saw me that way."

Lifting his head wearily to gaze at her, he smiled, "I take it you forgot about _them_ enough to enjoy yourself."

She laughed softly, "I believe you know that I did. Thank you."

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a loud growl from his stomach answered by one from hers. Chuckling, he said, "Perhaps I should check for the sandwiches."

"Perhaps you should," she smiled, "but put your trousers and robe on. I don't want anyone seeing what belongs to me."

He smiled down at her and then rose to pull his trousers and robe on quickly, wrapping it tight around him. Walking quickly over to the door, he stuck his head out and was satisfied to see the cart with sandwiches, fruit, and beer on a tray. He heard a door open down the hall and saw Richard's head poke out as well. The doctor's usually impeccable hair was sticking up on both sides and the back; even his neat little mustache looked rumpled. Charles merely grinned at him before pulling his sandwich-laden cart into his room.

Elsie looked over at him curiously, "Charles, that smile can't just be for the sandwiches."

"No," he smiled and lifted his eyebrows at her, bringing the tray over to the bed, "It would seem that Mrs. Crawley overcame any reluctance. I just saw Richard pulling a cart of sandwiches into his room, and he looked very satisfied and _used_. Grinned at me like a Cheshire cat."

She laughed. "He was probably grinning because of this," she said, motioning to his neck.

He rose quickly to look in the mirror before turning back to the bed in exasperation, "Well, thank goodness for high collars. Elsie, when are you going to learn that you must go a little lower?"

She looked at him enigmatically, "Believe me Charles; I have every intention of leaving my mark lower, much lower."

He took a quick swallow of beer to quench his suddenly dry mouth.

_**Reviews are appreciated as always.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**The last morning of the Carsons' holiday. Will they run into anyone else? Batwings79 has again written the parallel Richobel activity for this entitled "Behind Closed Doors" so be sure to check that out as well. **_

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own them and am earning nothing from them.**_

Elsie awoke feeling soft breaths brush against the back of her neck. She let her hand trail over his where it lay at her waist and paused to trace the wide scar at his wrist. His hand had crashed through a ladder rung in the stables when he was only eight, throwing him to the ground, and it frightened her to think how easily he could have lost that hand or even his life. Her life without Charles Carson was not one she wanted to contemplate for long. Stretching her legs she pushed her feet down where they rested on top of his, pressing her bottom snuggly into his groin. She felt him hardening against her backside, and his arm tightened on her waist drawing her closer. As much as she liked to lay surrounded by Charles, as she always thought of it, she turned in his arms to study the man she'd chosen to share her life with.

His face was relaxed, with the hint of a smile on his lips. She wondered briefly if he was dreaming of her and traced those lips with the tip of her index finger. They twitched, but he didn't open his eyes. His lips were soft, and she could feel the memory of their warmth on her neck, her breasts, and her thighs, whispering his pleasure against them. Tracing her finger along the rough stubble on his chin, she noticed that it was considerably greyer now than it had been years ago. She didn't mind. It was a reminder that they would grow old together, loving each other until the end.

Letting her eyes trail down his neck, she noticed the mark over his pulse on the right side of his neck and another just below the angle where his neck met his shoulder. Letting her hand rest on his chest over his heart, she saw that there was a faint bruise around his right nipple as well. She would have felt slightly embarrassed, but after two full days and fuller nights, she knew she had matching marks as well. Although he was always careful to avoid marking her neck so that she could wear her usual dresses, she had places on her collarbone and chest and was fairly sure there was a small purple area on her inner left thigh. The center of his chest was matted thickly with curly white hair, darkening as it spread around his nipples and down his abdomen. She smoothed her hand through the hair on his chest as she pulled back to let her eyes travel lower.

Smiling at the rising mound of his abdomen, she let her hand trail over his side and watched the muscles beneath his ribs twitch in response. Then she saw his abdomen rise with a deep, sighing breath and glanced up again to assure herself that his eyes were still closed. She felt his hand flex on her back and thought of how quick his hands were, gently probing and stroking all of her secret places finding new ways to excite her even after all these years.

She brought her attention back to her perusal and noticed the narrow V of hair trailing below the sheet. Lifting it gently away from his hip, she pushed the sheet lower. Running her hand over his hip, she traced the pale, white scar on the outside of his upper thigh. He always avoided talking about that scar. 'Something that had happened in the halls' was all he'd ever say. Pushing gently on his hip to get him on his back, she was surprised when his hand clutched her bottom drawing her on top of him as he rolled to his back. He nudged her forehead up with his chin and smiled as he captured her lips. She gasped into his mouth and smacked his hip lightly.

"Have you been awake the whole time?"

"Not the whole time," he whispered as his lips worked their way to her ear, "When you turned around I missed something warm and round against me, then my lips were tickled a bit, but I didn't actually wake up until you pulled the hair on my chest. What were you planning on doing with me?"

"I just wanted to look," she said, turning her head to find his lips, "you had your chance."

"Then finish your evaluation, dear wife, so we can enjoy the rest of our stay," he said as he lay back against the pillow, leaving his hand on her hip.

She rose on her elbow over him and finished lifting the sheet away from him, pushing it down his legs. Remembering an earlier time in their relationship, she had been shy of seeing him so exposed. Now she gloried in it. It made her almost exultant to know that she had the power to arouse him to this point. Letting her hand trail down his abdomen through the wiry hair below his navel, she smiled when he twitched at her approach. Running just the pads of her fingers over him, she encircled the tip and traced the vein on the underside to the base. "So soft," she whispered against his chest.

"Soft?" he growled hoarsely, "I believe you should check again."

"Just the skin, Charles," she answered with an amused glint in her eyes, "I've always thought it was like velvet stretched over stone."

He almost whimpered in disappointment when she pulled her hand away, but gasped in delight as she rose over him and eased herself down his length. She rose and fell slowly setting a tantalizingly slow pace, enjoying the feeling of his length stretching her. She shifted her angle slightly, and her eyes fluttered shut as she felt the pressure at just the right spot. He grasped her hips to encourage her to increase her pace, but she batted his hands away. Accepting her rebuke gracefully, he rose on his elbows to capture her nipple with his lips. She wrapped her arms around his head supporting him and holding his lips tight against her. Her release built slowly at first, then quickened, and she increased her pace accordingly. Falling back against the bed, he pulled her with him, but she continued to focus on the movements of her hips. Finally, gasping against his cheek, she felt the warmth exploding from her center in increasing waves. Her hips stilled, and he took over, grabbing her bottom and thrusting upward with short, quick, frantic movements. With a roar, he pressed tight against her and sucked the skin just over her collarbone into his mouth.

He collapsed back onto the bed and held her tight against his chest. They both panted, trying to catch their breaths. Hands stroked backs and sides, soothing trembling muscles as they drifted slowly back to reality. He groaned at the knock on the door and started to rise. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back, "I'll get it this time. You stay here, and I'll bring you your breakfast in bed."

He smiled at her and let his hand trail over her hip when she rose, "Good, because I'm not really sure that my legs would hold me up right now. Put your nightdress and robe on, though. I don't want anyone else to see my wife."

Pulling her nightdress over her head and wrapping her robe tightly around her, she plaited her hair loosely as she made her way quickly to the door. Glancing back over her shoulder, she smiled to see him sitting up with the sheet gathered at his waist. He certainly looked _used_ and happy she thought. She glowed proudly at the thought that she was responsible for both of those states.

She peeked out into the hall and didn't see anyone at the door, but the cart with toast, fruit, and teapot was right outside. She stepped out into the hall and heard some noise down the corridor. Looking in the direction of Isobel's room, she saw that she was retrieving their breakfast as well. The older woman was glowing as well but looked toward the floor with faintly pink cheeks and a small purple mark on her neck. Elsie thought back to how she had felt after her first stay here with Charles. She truly felt that they had done nothing wrong, but she had been embarrassed nonetheless. She paused remembering how he had awakened her at three a. m. to tell her they were going to the registrar's office to be married, and then he wisely remembered that he should ask and spent the next two hours convincing her. She had no idea what she would have done if they'd seen someone they knew on that trip. Smiling kindly at Isobel, she said, "It does get easier, you know."

Re-entering her room, she crossed to her lover, her husband, and her friend, bending to kiss him thoroughly. He returned her kiss with enthusiasm before pulling back and asking, "What was that for, dear wife?"

"For convincing me to marry you ten years ago and stay two days ago."

"I assure you it was completely selfless on my part," he said with a broad grin.

"Of course," she rolled her eyes at him, "Now eat your toast, maybe we'll be able to squeeze in just a little more fun before we leave."

He picked up a piece of toast and began to munch eagerly.

_**Reviews are welcome and appreciated**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**The final bit of our little story. Be sure to look for Batwings79's story as well 'Behind Closed Doors'**_

The first thing that registered was the sound of her voice. He focused on that to take his mind off the horrible tightness in his chest. Her voice came from a distance, and he could hear her directing Ethel and Anna with brisk efficiency to finish dinner. That wasn't proper, and she knew it, frustrating woman. He struggled to rise, but someone was holding him down. _Mr. Crawley?_ Why would he be holding him? Then it all came back to him in one embarrassing rush; the disaster of a dinner service, spilling the sauce, not being able to breathe, being made to sit down in front of the family, and finally blacking out a little. He looked around to try to find Elsie, but she was already gone. She was probably even now deciding how she was going to berate him for this latest embarrassment. He allowed Mr. Crawley and Lady Sybil, never Nurse Crawley no matter what she said, to take him to his room. There was an almighty struggle once he got there. Lady Sybil wanting to help him into his pyjamas! He would rather just die with his livery on. Thankfully, Mr. Crawley was able to get her to stand outside the door. He stayed inside, but merely stood with his face turned to the wall while Charles changed. As usual, the first thing he did after removing his jacket was to reach into his waistcoat pocket to withdraw his lucky sixpence and almost panicked again when he realized it wasn't there. Then, he remembered pulling it from his pocket when he'd first thought he was going to die. If Elsie couldn't be with him, at least he would have that, and she would know he'd been thinking about her at the end. He'd been holding it in his hand and then what? Where was it? It must be down in the dining room. He started toward the door to look for it, but realized he'd never be allowed. He just had to hope that no one would see it, and he could fetch it later. Maybe, if he was very lucky, Elsie might pick it up. That way, she could chuck it at his head later. By the time he had changed, both Lady Sybil and Mrs. Crawley were waiting out in the hall.

Mrs. Crawley argued briefly but quietly with Lady Sybil about giving him a glass of water. Lady Sybil was saying that if it was a heart attack he shouldn't have anything while Mrs. Crawley was telling her that she thought it likely wasn't. He smiled at how like Elsie she was, simply stating her case quietly and waiting for Lady Sybil to realize that she was right. The tightness did seem to have eased considerably, and at least now he could get a deep breath. He gratefully took the glass of water from Mrs. Crawley and wanted desperately to ask her to check on Elsie. She was the only one here who knew that Elsie was really his wife. He needed to know if she were alright. Unfortunately, with Mr. Crawley and Lady Sybil in the room there was no way that he could ask. Just as he was working out a way to form his request, Dr. Clarkson walked into his room without knocking. It was getting a bit crowded at this point. Servants' rooms weren't that big, after all. Apparently Dr. Clarkson agreed because he sent everyone but himself and Mrs. Crawley from the room. Charles would be eternally grateful for that. He certainly would not have wanted to submit himself to the indignity of an examination in front of members of the family. He distracted himself by watching how easily Dr. Clarkson and Mrs. Crawley communicated without words. Dr. Clarkson listened to his heart while Mrs. Crawley checked his blood pressure. Then they quietly compared notes. Dr. Clarkson would look at her with the merest hint of a question in his eyes, and she would either nod or shake her head slightly. He could see by the glint in Dr. Clarkson's eye that more often than not he agreed with her. He wondered briefly if this was how Elsie and he looked to others.

He turned his attention back to Dr. Clarkson to answer his first question, "I just felt as though I couldn't get a deep breath. It was as though something was squeezing my chest."

Mrs. Crawley asked the next question, "Did you have any other pains?"

He thought for a moment, "No, my heart was racing, and I couldn't get a deep breath."

He lay back with eyes closed against the headboard, trying to gather his thoughts. Dr. Clarkson asked the next question, "Is this the first time you've had symptoms like this?"

He grimaced, "Well, I have had a twinge or two in the past couple of weeks."

"You have? When?"

Charles looked at Mrs. Crawley hesitantly, he'd prefer not to answer this in front of someone Elsie considered a friend. Dr. Clarkson thankfully seemed to understand and glanced toward Mrs. Crawley. She understood his look instantly, "Perhaps I should just go down and let the staff know that Mr. Carson is going to be well. All the staff," she finished looking toward him reassuringly.

Dr. Clarkson looked back to him with an uplifted eyebrow once Mrs. Crawley had left the room, indicating that Charles should answer his question.

"Well," he answered hesitantly, "you must promise not to tell Elsie, it would only worry her, but it's usually been when we've been…"

Dr. Clarkson blushed faintly and cleared his throat, "Yes, yes, I think I understand. No need to go into any detail."

Charles scowled, "I was going to say when we've been arguing. We seem to have been doing rather a lot of that lately."

"I have no doubt of that," Dr. Clarkson sighed.

Charles looked at him carefully, "Why not?"

Dr. Clarkson took a deep breath which he blew out of his nose. He paused to look at Charles seriously for a moment and then drew a chair close to the bed, "Charles, when was the last time you were alone with your wife? I mean really alone, not here. When was the last time you were away together?"

"I don't really see that that's any of your business," Charles answered turning from him.

"I am your physician. Everything's my business," Dr. Clarkson said flatly and refused to drop his steady gaze.

Charles chewed at the inside of his bottom lip for a moment, "Nearly two years ago. You should remember it well. You were there," he said finally meeting the doctor's gaze just as steadily. By some unspoken agreement, although there had been opportunity over the past two years, the two men had never mentioned their unfortunate encounter at the inn.

The tips of Dr. Clarkson's ears tinted slightly, but he was not going to be deterred from his task, "Charles, is that really fair to either you or Mrs. Carson? It must be a tremendous strain on your relationship to have to be so restrained here. Not to mention the war…."

Charles cut him off with a little bit of heat in his voice, "The war is exactly the reason we've not been able to get away. We were already down one footman. Now I'm the only one left to serve. Lang will certainly not be of any help, and I must make sure that everything is done properly. You have no idea what it takes to run a house of this size."

"I'm sure I don't," Dr. Clarkson answered holding up a placating hand, "but do you have to do everything yourself?"

"Well, I certainly couldn't ask the maids to …" Charles began before Dr. Clarkson cut him off.

"And what about Mrs. Carson?"

Charles eyebrows drew dangerously low, "What about her?"

"Do you not think she'd rather be helping you than worrying herself sick about you?"

He scoffed, "Elsie's not worrying about me. Ready to brain me for being a great blooming idiot is more like it."

"Not worrying about you!" Dr. Clarkson asked incredulously, "Charles, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but after all, you are her husband…"

"Not tell me what? Is something wrong with Elsie?" Charles asked with a new note of concern in his voice.

Dr. Clarkson sighed and looked at the floor before meeting Charles's eyes once again, "She came to me last week. She's been having terrible stomach pains. Surely you've noticed she's lost a bit of weight lately."

Charles was stunned by this fact. He had noticed, had even commented on it. He'd gotten a tongue-lashing for his trouble. It just seemed that lately no matter what he did or said to Elsie it was wrong. Now he was worried. The house be damned. If something happened to Elsie, he'd never forgive himself.

"Stomach pains? Will she be alright? What's wrong? Why didn't she tell me?"

"You're what's wrong!" Dr. Clarkson exclaimed, "She's been worrying herself sick about you; worried that you'll get yourself in a state."

Charles chuckled ruefully, running his hand through his hair, "And obviously that's just what I've done. What do I need to do? I would do anything to make things right."

"Charles," the doctor smiled, "I think for starters you should probably tell her that," then his smile broadened, "And I must say this is the first time I remember prescribing this particular remedy, but I think you should find some time alone in that inn. It would probably be best if you don't do any sightseeing on this trip either."

Charles laughed, "You could be a very popular doctor if you gave that kind of prescription to everyone."

Their laughter was cut off by the door opening softly to reveal Elsie with red-rimmed eyes.

Dr. Clarkson stood quickly and walked to the door.

"Time for you to get started on my prescription, Charles," he said smiling and patted Elsie's back gently as he walked out the door. He suddenly had a very real need to speak to Isobel.

She stood for several moments with her back against the door after Dr. Clarkson left, merely watching Charles carefully. After submitting to her observation for as long as he could stand, he said gently, "Elsie, I'm going to be fine. Dr. Clarkson said it was just nerves."

She nodded and took a step toward him, "Isobel came to tell me."

He cleared his throat and nodded, looking down to pick invisible lint from his blanket, "Well, that's good then. Did the rest of dinner go off smoothly enough?"

She smiled ruefully, "As smoothly as it could with everyone so distracted. Charles, is how the dinner service went all you can think of?"

"No; it is not, but it seemed safest," he said thoughtfully, "I was waiting for you to gloat over being right."

"Charles," she said as she took another step toward the bed, "I have no desire to be right, just for you to be and stay well. Why do you think I've been begging you to take better care of yourself?"

He smiled, reaching out to grasp her hand, "I thought it was because you enjoyed nagging me so much. It does seem to have become your favorite pastime lately."

She gasped and gave a small cry when he pulled her down beside him, "I've only been nagging you because I want you to take care of yourself. If I didn't love you so much, I'd tell you to work harder and run up and down the stairs a few more times so that you could have a proper heart attack."

He hugged her tightly to his side, "Dr. Clarkson told me how worried you've been. You should have told me. I'll not have you making yourself sick over me."

"He shouldn't have told you that," she whispered into his chest.

"He most certainly should have," he answered forcefully, "We neither of us should keep secrets from each other. Dear wife, do you have no idea what it would do to me to see you ill?"

She raised her head to look at him levelly for a moment, "Considering that I thought you were going to die not an hour ago, yes I think I might," she said as she raised her hand to tenderly stroke his cheek before realizing that she still held a small object in it, "Oh, I almost forgot. Isobel gave this to me. She said you dropped it in the dining room. Charles, what happened that you would let this go? It's not been out of your reach since our wedding."

He took it from her with evident relief, "Thank God. I thought I'd lost it." He paused for a moment, not sure that he should tell her everything, then decided he had to be completely truthful, "For a moment there, I thought it was the end. I wanted it in my hand and for you to know I was thinking of you. I must have blacked out for a moment and then it was gone."

"I thought for more than a few moments there that I'd lost you," she said with a hitch in her voice.

He drew her against him to kiss her thoroughly and whispered against her lips, "Not for a very long time, love. Not for a very long time. Can I ever make it up to you?"

She smiled and kissed him back hungrily before answering, "That depends on when your doctor clears you for all activities."

He laughed, "I think I'm cleared already. Did you not hear him say I was to get started on my prescription right away?"

"_That_ is your prescription!"

At Charles's grin and raised eyebrows, she said, "He'll be a very popular physician if prescribes that to everyone."

"He certainly will be! So will you help me start on my prescription later tonight? That's one prescription that I certainly don't want to take by myself."

"You will definitely not have to take that prescription by yourself," she said emphatically, "But perhaps tonight a sleeping draught would be in order."

"And here I thought you wanted me to be well. If you insist on thinking you know better than the doctor, then I'm afraid you'll have to deal with the consequences."

"Charles," she began hesitantly, "I'm still not sure that tonight would be such a good idea, as much as I want to. My nerves are still on edge."

"I believe I can understand. It's been a hectic day. Will you at least sleep with me tonight? I think I'll sleep much better with you beside me than with a sleeping draught."

"I'll come back once everything's settled. To sleep, mind," she smiled as she poked his chest.

"I look forward to it. And bring my diary so we can figure out a few days away at our inn," he caressed her bottom as she stood and started toward the door.

She turned back to look at him one last time, "Don't go anywhere."

"Never will I leave you, love. Never will I leave you," and he twirled the small coin in his hand which she knew always meant he was thinking of her. She touched her chest where he knew the luckenbooth rested under her dress which he knew meant she was thinking of him as well. He met her eye and smiled at her gratefully.

All would be well, and all would be well, and all manner of things would be well.

_**This is the end unless I just feel the overwhelming need to do a M-chapter of their next stay at their inn. Hopefully they won't run into anyone. Reviews are always appreciated.**_


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